


Even Before I Met You

by bekindplsrewind



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Reincarnation AU, Romance, Soulmates AU, Tentative Title, additional tags may also be added, depictions of blood, may change later, rating may change in the future
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:34:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22327921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bekindplsrewind/pseuds/bekindplsrewind
Summary: Dean has been having dreams of a mysterious man all his life, one whose face he cannot see. One night, one message is clear when the man says to him:"Find me."
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 15
Kudos: 53





	Even Before I Met You

**Author's Note:**

> a secret santa gift to [hagatafulmine](https://hagatafulmine.tumblr.com/) on our spn fam discord :)
> 
> * * *
> 
>  _"Through the lens of reincarnation, soulmates are seen as very bonded souls who choose to unite as a couple again and again. They have shared many lives and experiences and both wish to continue the relationship as different people.”_ \- Reincarnation Central

Dean has had dreams about this man for as long as he can remember. He’s not always dressed the same, and at one point, he swears he’s a woman, but the one thing that remains consistent, is the feeling of his presence. They’re not always in the same time periods either; their clothes are usually a tell-tale sign that he’s dreaming about another era. Once they’re dressed in military uniforms during world war two, another time resembling something out of a renaissance painting; clothes from the regency period, and another, dapper outfits from the roaring twenties.

Dean remembers them having conversations, but he can’t hear him—he just knows they’re communicating. When he tries to focus on the man’s face, it’s like the camera angle in a film, deliberately shifting downward, just enough so that he can’t see past his chin. All he can rely on is the dark colour of his hair, his presence, and the feelings of warmth and being loved, the same feelings that he returns to him.

When he’s in his teens, he wonders if this man might be real. He starts to seek out guys with dark hair, guys with a similar silhouette. He’s developed a type based on this dream-man, but all these relationships are short lived and fade just as quickly as his dreams. He starts to forget about him as he grows older, being met with disappointment after disappointment, his hopes getting dashed yet again by failed relationship after failed relationship. In the end, he’s come to the conclusion that the dark haired man only exists in his dreams, and he hasn’t had one of him for a long while.

He’s in his mid twenties now, and he’s visited by his dream-man again. This time, it seems more real and vivid than it’s ever been before. He can see the stubble on his chin, the way his lips curve into a smile. The man speaks to him, and even though Dean can’t make out the words, he swears he can almost hear his voice: low and vibrant, thick like draping velvet, warm like cooling coals. But he still can’t see his face. His disappointment is assuaged when the man reaches out and touches his face, and it’s a feeling that sends shivers down Dean’s spine, leaving him gasping softly. He wants to kiss him, but all the man does is smile at him before getting up and walking away.

The next time Dean dreams of him, it happens very much the same way, but more things are revealed to him. This time he can smell him. Aftershave and spices like cloves and sandalwood. Coffee, and something else. He’s not sure what it is, but it’s familiar. The man leans closer to him and he closes his eyes, thinking he’s going to finally be kissed, but their cheeks only brush and he feels the warmth of his breath caress the side of his face, the whistle in his ear. He strains, only making out something distorted like audio underwater.

Dean doesn’t know what these dreams mean, but the frequency of the dream-man’s visits have increased more than ever. He’s frustrated because he’s always left wondering: who is he? Why can’t he see his face? Why hasn’t he kissed him yet? But above all, what is he trying to tell him? Finally, Dean has had enough of this and pushes him away before he can come near him.

“What’re you trying to tell me!” he demands, hands drawn out away from his body. “Just say it!”

The man stands idle, his silence commanding Dean to do the same, and Dean ultimately acquiesces. He comes close again, his hand next to his face as he leans in next to his ear and whispers: “Find me.”

And Dean wakes up.

* * *

Dean’s haunted by his words. Day and night, his thoughts are consumed by those two little words and he doesn’t know where to start. What the hell did it mean to ‘find him’? Was he even real? Dean hasn’t had a dream about him since, and he can’t be bothered to, not when he’s moving to a new city for an internship.

Work is hard, hustling for the big wigs up top, but he has to make a good impression if he wants a quicker promotion. Dean isn’t getting paid as much as he’d like, but it’s enough to get by. He isn’t really utilised for what he’s studied for in this position either, but he’s been told it isn’t for naught, that after he’s done with his probation, he’ll slowly get to move onto more hands-on things. Three months, he reminds himself as he’s rushing out to get his bosses coffees at the kiosk out on the corner.

He does a coffee run a couple times a day, once in the morning before work, and then again in the afternoon for a pick-me-upper when they’re running low on fumes. He’s done it so many times, he knows their orders off by heart. Today is particularly busy at the little kiosk, a small huddle of five bodies waiting in anticipation for their caffeine fix. Dean huffs impatiently as he jogs up to the stand, being mindful of the piles of scraped up grey snow left by the snow ploughs and frozen impacted snow that’s turned into ice on the sidewalk. The city needs to be more mindful about salting the streets, he thinks to himself.

Three more bodies slip in in front of him before he’s even reached the tail end, where he’s now standing and waiting in the nondescript line. Checking his watch periodically, he watches as two people leave, but he’s pressed for time and takes a risk by charging ahead.

“Sorry, excuse me,” he says, pushing past and unavoidably bumping shoulders.

 _“Hey!”_ someone yells.

Dean makes it to the front and practically jostles the guy in the knitted beanie and scarf out of the way. “I’m on a tight deadline, here,” he justifies himself with a hasty reply. “Bobby, can I get my order, please?”

 _“We’re all waiting here!”_ someone else seethes.

“Don’t worry, he knows my order; I’m a regular,” he explains, barely looking past his shoulder.

Bobby sighs, too tired and too cold to lecture him. “Dean.”

“Bobby, c’mon, man—”

_“Get your ass back in line!”_

_“Yeah!”_ The people are readying their pitchforks.

“This’ll only take a minute!” Dean yells back. “Bobby, you know I won’t hold you back with all the fancy bullshit people are putting in their coffees nowadays. Three Americanos, two lattes, and one decaf. The longer you stand there waiting, the longer it’ll take.”

Bobby sighs and rolls his eyes as he starts to pour his coffees. “You better be leaving a hefty tip in there,” he says, nodding at the glass jar in front of the cash register.

Dean sets a few bills on the counter for his order and slips a ten into the jar. “Thanks, Bobby.” He smiles.

“Yeah, whatever, ya idjit,” he mutters.

Dean ignores the derogatory comments and glares directed at him as he hurries back, side stepping the icy snow banks when he suddenly feels his feet slip from underneath him. The sound of the coffees hit the ground, along with the low thump of his body and loud crack of his head. Dean is left cold and breathless on the ground. The full throttle of pain doesn’t come immediately either, but when it does, it’s raw and throbbing. He hears someone stomping, the sound getting louder and imminently closer before it skids to a stop.

“Hey, are you all right?”

Dean winces and his eyes flutter open. He squints and tries to focus on his breath, a cloudy vapour floating up like miniature smoke signals into the aether. There’s someone hovering above him, but his vision is blurred; the odd beanie and blue scarf on him are clues enough for Dean to figure out he’s the same guy he’d shoved aside at the kiosk. He groans and struggles to sit up. Karma’s a bitch.

“Be careful!” The man helps Dean and steadies him with his arm.

“Shit!” Dean hisses when he spots the scattered coffee cups and a puddle of brown in the melting slush.

“Hey, you’re bleeding.”

Dean gingerly touches his fingers to the back of his head and grimaces, feeling warmth slick down the back of his neck. “Fuck,” Dean whispers when he sees the red on his hand, regaining some focus.

“Try not to move,” the man instructs, removing his hat and placing it to the back of Dean’s skull; his hands are strong as they continue to hold Dean upright. “You might have a concussion.”

Dean gets a chill when he hears his voice rumble so close to his ear, the smell of his aftershave filling his nostrils making him dizzy. Slowly, Dean turns to look at him, really _look_ at him, and his breath hitches when he sees the muss of his dark hair. He doesn’t say anything at first, until the man notices his gaze and stares back at him.

Dean’s heart starts to race. “You’re… you’re him,” he whispers.

The man searches his face for a second before a spark seems to illuminate his eyes, making them appear even more blue than they already are. “…I found you.”

**Author's Note:**

> this was a different and experimental style i decided to try out, and honestly, i kinda like it :). even though this started out as a one-time ficlet and gift, i think i'll be extending this into a few more chapters. how many more? i'm not sure XD.
> 
> thanks for reading! any thoughts on the fic? i love and appreciate all the comments and kudos! :) you can find me on my spn tumblr: [seagullmichael](https://seagullmichael.tumblr.com/)


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